FROM THE OTHER SIDE
by Spirit Burner AKA Chick Feed
Summary: SPOILERS for Season 9 Episode 7 "Bad Boys" Oh, and for added fun, anyone having a read of this should also have a laugh at the unsigned (obviously) and very literate review left on Dec 14 from someone clearly "all growed up." Loved it, keeping it!


_**Spoilers for S9 Ep.7 "Bad Boys"**_

**FROM THE OTHER SIDE**

-o-o-o-

John strode out of the building, the expression of fury on his face plain enough to cause the other people walking the sidewalk to step out of his path. Pulling up in front of their current motel room, John's expression hadn't eased. Unlocking the door to the room, he stepped inside. Sam immediately lifted his head up from his current piece of art work, his gaze zoning in on the empty space behind John.

"Where's Dean?"

John had known this would be the first question out of the mouth of his youngest, and he was ready for it.

"Come here Sam."

John's tone made it clear that he expected an instant response, but still Sam hesitated, anxiety levels flaring swiftly.

"Is Dean alright dad?"

John waited until Sam was stood in front of him, his worried face staring up at John.

"Daddy?"

Daddy, just that one word spoken in the sweet voice of his baby boy, it was all it took, and the anger John had been holding onto eased down a couple of notches, enough to drive the look of rage from his face.

"Your brother's fine Sammy, he's not hurt. He's where he deserves to be, and where _you_ might end up if you don't follow my orders and if you keep on answering back."

Sam's neat little eyebrows scrunched up into a frown.

"I don't understand ... Where is he? When's Dean coming back? Where's my brother? Dad?"

Tears were already accumulating in the boy's wide, innocent eyes, melting John a little bit more. He knelt down to put himself on Sam's level. John held out one arm, inviting his son in for a hug. Always craving contact, Sam didn't refuse and John pulled his boy into a firm embrace, breathing in the scent of his silky soft hair, knowing that Sam, very soon, would be pulling away from him.

"Sammy...Dean's done a very bad thing, and so the police have put him in prison..."

He felt his son's body tense, followed by Sam straightening up from where he had been snuggled into John's chest. Wide hazel green eyes stared at John in horror.

"No! They can't! He's my brother. He looks after me! You hav'ta go get him daddy. You hav'ta tell them he's good, he didn't do nuffin, he wouldn't! Pleeease daddy, c'mon, we hav'ta go fetch him home!"

By now the young boy was tugging at his father's hand in an attempt to get him to move, the tears were streaming unchecked down Sam's face and his nose was beginning to dribble. He couldn't understand why his dad wasn't jumping up, ready to go rescue Dean. Small hands began battering desperately against John's chest. Sam's pleading was interspersed with hiccupping sobs.

"_Please,_ you gotta get up! _Get up!_ We gotta go. Why aren't you getting up? _Daddy!"_

John steeled himself, knowing he was about to be on the receiving end of his son's anger. He captured Sam's hands in each of his own.

"No Sammy. Dean has to stay right where he is. He deserves to be punished, you understand? Your brother's broken the law, he knows that. It's his own fault that he's not here with us, his own fault that he's not here to ... _look after you.,_ ok?"

John sighed and stood up when, as he had expected, Sam responded by moving away from him. The boy stood rigid, arms down by his sides, his small fists clenched, his face pale as he glared up at John.

"You don't _want_ him to come back, _do_ you? You don't love him anymore ... I ... I _**hate**_ you!"

Internally John flinched at the intensity and force behind his youngest son's words.

"Sam! That's _enough_ boy. Dean's not coming back and that's the end of it. I don't care_ how_ much of a temper tantrum you have! I suggest you go to your bed, _now! _No TV and no supper. You hear me boy?"

Sam's eyes narrowed as he focused on his father. John was momentarily taken aback by the lack of fear in his boy's eyes.

"Yessir ... I hear you."

Sam spun on his heels and virtually marched across to his bed. He sat with his back to John whilst he quickly changed into his PJ's. Clambering under the bed covers Sam laid down, still keeping his back towards his father.

"Good night son."

There was no response at all.

**-o-o-o-**

**FIN.**

"


End file.
